Flaps and Flops
by Midorima Kazunari
Summary: Robin plays Flappy Birds while Kid Flash laments his new homework assignment.


Robin's hair ruffles as Wally enters the room. He doesn't bother looking up from his tablet; if Wally wants his attention, he'll demand it. In his periphery, Robin sees Wally check his watch, frown, and speed off again. None of this concerns the diminutive crime fighter for more than a split second and he doesn't even lose his rhythm in Flappy Birds - the original - mind you - not those cheap rip offs. He is passed his old record and is closing in on Batman's. His grin spreads from cheek to cheek.

Kid Flash makes another circuit; when he returns, Robin notes hints of dogwood and white hawthorn lingering around the bright yellow and red uniform that usually only smells of sweat. _So he's been down to Central City and back._ But again, Robin's not distracted from the beat of his game; he's been waiting for this small victory for months.

Wally consults his watch, again, and growls. He taps his foot in a petulant cadence that almost throws Robin off, but he saves the little yellow bird a hair's breath from disaster. Robin exhales loudly, but can't waste time celebrating; there's a record to break.

When his mentor had suggested this game as an 'advanced training exercise,' he'd thought he'd lucked out, but after spending three minutes of crashing into pipes, he'd realized it was more than a simple child's diversion, but an exercise in concentration, dynamics, and endurance.

To rub salt into his wounds, Batman could play while holding Robin off in a mock fight; the man broke records everytime he played - exceeding his own high standards; he could beat Robin's score while tied to a chair and defusing a bomb with nothing more than a stick of bubble gum and a paperclip - all the time one-handed… he'd done so, more than once just to prove the point.

It is unfair, but Robin understands that Batman has years of experience on him, even if he does - not so secretly - resent that he isn't stronger, quicker, or just a better partner in general to Batman and a better member of the Young Justice team.

Wally rushes into the seat next to him, jarring his elbow and pitching the device sideways into the air. Wally blurs, catches it, and has it back into Robin's hands in an instant, but his fingers are in the wrong place, and the bird falls. The "game over" graphic pops up, mocking him; his isn't the top score - oh no - and this one is only fifteen shy of the ultimate bragging rights. Sure Batman would shrug off a victory anyway and suggest Robin begin again - this time suspended upside down from a trapeze, or blindfolded. Just fifteen…

Wally slumps against Robin's shoulder. "It's not fair," is the first statement Robin's sure he hears from the Speedster, even though he's been speaking since before he slowed down.

"Fifteen," Robin agrees. He wants nothing more than to throw off his sunglasses and wipe away the frustration that stings his eyes, but he can't, not even in front of his best friend. So, he weaves his fingers under the frames and digs the salty traitors from his tear ducts.

"Fifteen?" Wally asks, stunned. "How did you know?

Robin is so annoyed he just gapes at Wally for a few seconds. "Because you ruined my game fifteen gates before I would have _finally_ beaten Batman's high score on Flappy Bird."

"Oh...oh? Dude! I'm so sorry; I was so wrapped up in my own troubles, I didn't notice yours."

"What's wrong with you, then?" Robin asks, glad to turn his brilliant mind aside from the failure.

"I have to wear this Fitbit," Wally says, holding up his wrist. The black band looks more like a bracelet than a fitness device, but as Wally moves, the display flickers a weak blue light. "Look, it's supposed to tell me how many steps I take, but it can't be right. There are more than fifteen steps between here and Central City."

Robin closes the taunting app and begins searching the interwebs for information on the device Wally's wearing. "Well, here's the problem, once you move over a certain MPH, it assumes you're in a car, or other vehicle, and it stops counting."

"You mean I'm going to have to slow down for it to work?" Wally asks, pouting.

"It's a nice watch," Robin consoles. "It says that it'll monitor your heart rate and your sleep."

Wally's pout intensifies. "Yeah, the pulse thing doesn't work on me either," he says, pushing the button down twice until a heart symbol appears on the screen, then it automatically slides across to show two dashes. As he glares at the display it falls from 999 to 587 to 245, and settles at ninety-nine. "It only picks me up when I'm completely still."

"What's the fascination with this all of a sudden? If you want something that'll tell you your steps, I could have made it and saved you the time, money, and frustration."

"All the kids at school have to wear one as part of a semester fitness challenge. For an 'A' we have to walked 10,000 steps five days a week, 8,000 for a 'B', 5,000 for a 'C', and so on. On top of Advance History, AP Physics, Calculus and Chemistry, PE has always been my only easy class, and right now I've got an 'F.' So not fair; I could lose my scholarship because of this stupid project and it's not like I don't move… constantly."

Robin stairs at the tablet and then at Wally's band; he sighs.

"How are you at Flappy Birds?"

"That cellphone game?" Wally asks, confused.

"Yeah, that one."

"I don't really know; I got bored with it when I reached a thousand and deleted it off my phone."

"A thousand?" Robin's eyebrow goes up.

"Yeah, why?"

"If you get me over a thousand on my tablet, I'll wear your band for the semester. I run ten miles everyday, the good-old fashion slow way. That should keep your 'A'.

Wally takes the device and sits with his eyes glued to the screen. He fails spectacularly within three flaps - the first six times - but then his muscle memory takes over and the bird soars through the gates. It takes much longer than most of Wally's normal activities, but he does it without complaint.

"When should I stop?" Wally asks.

"One thousand fifteen will be fine, please," Robin answers, cackling.


End file.
